He poured some into my cup and said, “Only the best for you, Miss Warren.”
He filled his cup, clinked it against mine and I asked, “What’s the occasion?”
He answered, “I just figured we should toast the success of our award-winning film.”
“Yeah, Trip? We haven’t won any awards.”
“Yet.”
I laughed as he downed his drink in one shot, grimacing and staring at his cup as if it had offended him. I was no connoisseur, but I didn’t think it tasted that great either.
“Oof, that’s bad.” He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the awful aftertaste. Then he poured another cup.
“And,” he started in, and I didn’t like the tone in his voice, “I also wanted to give myself a proper sendoff.”
Oh, God! Was he moving again already?
“What do you mean? Where are you going?” I asked, trying to sound merely curious instead of completely devastated.
He tried to hold back a grin and look properly humble. “Well, I made the team.”
I knew he was referring to the travelling hockey team that he’d tried out for weeks before. He didn’t allow himself to talk about it too much, but I knew it was a really big deal for him.
“You made the team! That’s great! Congratulations. When did you find out?
“Wednesday night. The coach called and asked me if I was available. Can you believe that? Am I available, like I’m Wayne Gretzky or something and might not be able to fit his team into my busy schedule.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, yeah it is. I’m pretty psyched. Although...” and his expression turned shamefaced as he tried to break the next news to me gently, “Tonight’s my last night working here. I already talked to Martin.”
I tried not to deflate too visibly, but damn! He was quitting! Work was going to suck without him there. I realized that things were drastically changing between us; no more Tuesday filming, no more Mondays and Fridays at Totally Videos. “Well, that sucks,” I finally stated, before throwing back the rest of my drink.
Every last bit of my designated Trip Time was slipping away. All that was left was the last Saturday football game, because the very next day was homecoming.
Chapter 15
CROSSING THE LINE
I’d started to notice Lisa’s increasing frustration with me over the previous weeks, but it wasn’t until the day of the homecoming game that I perceived actual disappointment on her face.
Trip had shuttled Lisa, Pickford and me to the field that day. It was a particularly grey and drizzly afternoon, even for the end of November. As we started our walk toward the bleachers, my sneakers kept getting sucked into the mud. Rather than let me try to make the journey by tiptoe, Trip offered a passage by way of piggyback. He was doing an exaggerated slip all over the mud puddles, pretending that he was going to drop me any second. I was cracking up and threatening his life when I happened to catch the disapproving look Lisa shot my way.
I knew something was about to go down as she was getting dropped off afterwards. Trip would normally save me for the last stop, but that day, Lisa asked me to get out at her house instead. I knew we’d been building up to some Big Conversation over the past few weeks, but I guessed she had finally decided it was going to happen right then.
We said goodbye to Trip and made our way into the house. She didn’t say a single word to me until we were locked safely away in the sanctuary of her room. “Okay, Layla. This has really got to stop.”
I was sitting on her bed Indian-style, picking at the chartreuse marabou pillow in my lap. “What has?”
She rolled her eyes at me for that. “This!” she shouted, sweeping her arms in a wide arc, “This whole, stupid thing with you and Trip! What the hell is going on with you two?”
Her abrupt words caught me off guard. “I don’t know,” I stammered, while still trying to maintain an air of smugness. “Why don’t you tell me?”
I knew Lisa well enough to expect a full-on assault for that, but rather than the verbal tirade I was anticipating, she said, “I know I’ve been spending a lot of time with Pickford. But he’s my boyfriend. What’s going on between you and Trip... is just... well, it’s disturbing.”
That made me puff up a little in defense. “What’s so disturbing about it? We’re friends. We hang out.” And then, just to throw a little salt in the wounds, I added, “You know, kind of like how we used to.”
She bypassed opening that can of worms for the time being and stuck to her original argument. “Oh, please. Friends my arse. It’s so obvious you’re in love with him. Everyone knows it. Just admit it. And seriously, what’s the point?”